


Gardens and guns

by Cluck_and_Peck



Series: Write ALL the Hobbit AUs! [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cavalier treatment of death, F/M, Female Bilbo, I think it's fine though, Neighbours AU, Rule 63, Sexually Frustrated Bo Baggins, Someone might find it a bit disturbing, ex-CIA!Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluck_and_Peck/pseuds/Cluck_and_Peck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thorin retired from his wonderful, exciting, high risk job in the CIA for 'various reasons', Hobbiton seemed like the perfect place to settle down. It was quiet, remote and no one would ever think of looking for him here, which was great because he'd probably pissed off a lot of people in his last undercover job when he'd taken off the arm of the high ranking Uruk captain, Azog. Yes, it was entirely perfect, with its pretty little gardens and its rolling hills and its wildflowers and...</p><p>Oh who was he kidding, he hated it.</p><p>But the new neighbour was okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thorin looked around his new house. The hardwood floors, the chintzy armchair that was ridiculously comfortable, the fireplace with logs and poker ready, the quaint kitchen with its hob and bright red kettle and the many windows letting the fresh country air in.

He hated it.

He missed his cold clean apartment, so utterly immaculate with its chrome and leather theme, the uncomfortable sofa that he could not really sit on with falling off, and the barely used kitchen with coffeemaker always on. This was quite a change for him.

If it was for a mission, Thorin would have loved it. Here he could really get into the character of a forgetful author or a history professor with a tendency to give long winding lectures on the molding in the house. But this wasn’t a mission, he would never have a mission again. This was real life and with every waking moment, his decision to ‘retire’ from the CIA was looking more and more stupid.

He missed the excitement, he missed the thrill, how could he possibly find his ‘inner peace’ in this dump of a place?

Outside the scenic countryside village of Hobbiton beckoned.

“Home sweet home.” Thorin said out loud as the final box was unpacked.

And his voice totally didn’t choke on the last word.

* * *

 

Bo watched the huffy man who had moved in next door move about in his house. She tried to convince herself that she was not being a voyeur; she simply had a vested interest in finding out who he was. Gandalf had mentioned briefly of course that someone he knew was moving into town and that had been enough to get her riled with curiosity.

The new neighbour turned in the direction of the window through which she was watching him and she lowered her eyes, thanking the gardening hat for hiding her true intentions and lay down the mulch. A frisson of thrill ran through her at the thought of being caught but she resolutely looked away from his approaching steps until he was leaning over the low fence and his shadow fell over her work.

She looked up and repressed the giggle threatening to make its way out of her-it was the most exciting thing that had happened in ages which really does tell you how little happened in Hobbiton-and all but swooned.

He was pretty. Really pretty.

The floppy dark hair, the perfect length to be tugged on running through with strands of grey framed his very sharp nose perfectly. The ridiculous blue eyes were so pale it looked like he was wearing kohl because of how bright they were.

So bloody pretty. Bo almost frowned because of how unpretty he made her feel.

“Hello.”

“...Hi.” He answered reluctantly and it took a lot of self-control to not just melt into a puddle of goo because of his voice.

She would be thinking of that voice while she finished herself tonight.

As soon as she figured out why he was looming over her of course.

“May I help you?”

“No I just thought...never mind.” He turned to leave but before he could, she called out to him.

“Hey, neighbour, aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

He blinked. She resisted the urge to climb him like a tree.

“Thorin.”

“Hello Thorin, I’m Bo. Welcome to Hobbiton!”

She wished Thorin was the chatty type. That would make this less awkward and she could hear his sexy voice a bit more.

“Yes, thank you.”

“How do you find our village so far?”

“It’s...quiet.”

“It’s also small. Very small. One night at the pub and you’ll get to know everyone in town. And then some.” She smiled widely to make sure she didn’t start leering. Thorin remained awkward.

“That’s...just great.” His nostrils flared and Bo inwardly sighed at even that little action. “Where exactly is the pub?” He asked through gritted teeth, the little awkward quirk of lips turning into a frown as she gave him the directions to the Green Dragon.

“I’ll be going there in the evening myself if you’d like me to show you around.”

“That would be great, thanks.” He tried to smile and it came out as a grimace instead.

Not that it mattered much. No one new had been seen in Hobbiton for years something that had driven Bo herself into a form of... oh, who was she kidding, it was nothing but pure sexual frustration. The only person who even came close to being attractive (or at least her idea of attractive, she’d never been fond of blonds) was Smeagol and that was just _never_ going to happen. The many old ladies who resided here would pounce upon the new flesh like lionesses descending upon the weak of the herd.

Bo could only hope she got a few morsels in before they were done.

* * *

Thorin nodded and turned to leave. The pub would be perfect, f his neighbour was right and the whole village would be there then he would soon be able to scope out the look of everyone. He’d already seen the giant with the furry eyebrows and the large number of goats in his gigantic front yard while driving through and he wanted to make sure he knew everything there was to know about everyone.

“Oh, and Thorin?” Bo (or Goldilocks as his treacherous mind had decided to call her) called out and he turned, “You don’t have any pets do you?”

“Not really, may I ask why-“

“Well, see that plant there?” She pointed at the little shrub that bore beautiful purple flowers. “It’s poisonous and consequently potentially harmful to some pets who might think it a good idea to chew on it.”

“If its poisonous why do you keep it?”

Surely that was rather lax of Goldilocks?

“It’s Atropa Belladonna. My mother was named Belladonna, so...”

“Atropa, that reminds me of something.”

Atropos, he remembered from his school lessons. One of the three Fates and the one who actually cut the thread and ended the life of mortals. He had overheard that name being tossed around when he was working undercover in the Uruk gang. Strange.

Then he realised the shrub was essentially a shrine to Bo’s mother. He looked at her strangely. “You remember your mother with a poisonous plant?”

“If you’d known her, you’d think it was appropriate too.” She grinned wryly and he realised that Bo was actually quite beautiful. Not in the conventional sense, she wasn’t all fine bones and delicacy but there was a humorous lilt to her mouth.

“Right, well I’ll let you get back to...whatever it is you were doing.”

“Laying down mulch. See you later Thorin.” She smiled, he tried to smile and then left, glad that he didn’t have to do things that were called ‘laying down mulch’.

It was a good hour later that Thorin realised that if he was to fit in here, he’d have to start gardening himself.

* * *

 

Bo fell back in shock as some very loud thuds began resounding through her neighbour’s house. Then she shook off the thought that Thorin was throwing things violently around or punching walls.

Probably moving furniture around, that was all.

* * *

Thorin settled into his new life soon enough. For all his complaining, evolving to adapt to new surroundings was something he was well versed in. He was even getting used to the idea of being retired, sure he would miss the stakeouts, the long cons, the undercover missions and the general killing of bad people but at least now he got to take an active part in his family’s life. As far as Dis knew, Thorin had had a heart attack and his doctor had recommended a relaxed lifestyle free of stress. Now he could actually invite Dis and the kids to stay with him for a few days if they were nearby without having to hide all his guns. Admittedly they would probably never be nearby since there was an ocean between them but Dis travelled to Ered Luin often which meant she’d pass pretty close. It would be nice to catch up with her and actually have something to say that wasn’t entirely made up as a cover for his ‘overseas trips’.

Of course, most of what he would say would revolve around the village gossip but it was nice to know that he _could_. He could actually say names of real people and tell her about how old Miss Sandman kept on pinching his butt and then pretending her hand had slipped, he could complain about Beorn the giant, who was always glaring at him suspiciously, he could share the fact that Mrs Bracegirdle had been seen sabotaging the Goodchild family’s pumpkin patch, all to win the prize at the local fair only to lose to Bo’s tomatoes.

He could also tell her about his foray into gardening. Bo had been kind enough to give him some ferns from her garden saying that they were easy to take care of.

He had killed them in two days.

Yes, he thought as he switched off the light by his bed and prepared to sleep, the next time Dis came by everything would finally be normal.

 His eyes were closed for a full minute before flying open.

Someone was walking up his driveway. He flicked an eye to the sliver of space between the curtain and the window.

Scratch that, many people were walking up the driveway. Fully equipped too and he recognised the specialised blade hanging at the side of one of the men’s hips all too well.

It doesn’t take Thorin long to get his guns out. He would smile because this was exactly what he was missing all these weeks but he doesn’t because they are here at Thorin Durin’s home and Thorin Durin had a sister, a brother, two nephews and that was four potential targets where even one was far too many. So he doesn’t smile but he allows himself to roll his eyes when they make a bloody racket (sounds loud to him anyway) trying to break the lock.

He stands on the landing and waits. Various creaking noises arise from the old house and he can place at least six of them all around the house. The rest, well he’ll get around to them. For now though, there is one who is brave enough to climb up to the first floor and he is the first one to earn himself a bullet. Three others soon follow, one managing to fall down the stairs and knock out another two making his way up. Blood and brain matter now stain his floor and as Thorin disarms and shoots another one he wonders if that was hard to get out of the carpet. He’s never had to stick around for cleanup.

He fits a new clip into his gun and prepares to get the others who proceed with a great deal more caution now that six of their comrades lie dead. Thorin disarms another one but this one fights back, keeping the gun’s nozzle firmly pointed away from him and the bookcase falls over in the struggle. Another one appears from nowhere but places himself in the line of fire and Thorin shoots, the suddenness and burn of it surprising the man he was grappling with enough for Thorin to pull back and shoot him.

His clip is empty again and he doesn’t have another loaded one on him anymore. Thorin pulls back and hides in a nook of the room that used to annoy him before but seems perfect now that he’s skulking around his own house. Another one of the crew steps close, the man walking cautiously, his gun out and ready to shoot. What he hasn’t prepared for Thorin side slamming him, whipping the pistol across his head before disarming him and shooting him with his own gun.

Then there was one. This one Thorin would leave alive. Well for a while at least, he wanted information.

So a little bullet to the knee and a jab to a certain pressure point is all that this last one gets before Thorin set about making a few calls.

“Wizard.” Thorin growled as soon as the phone was picked up.

“Oak, do you know what time it is?”Comes the grumbled reply.

“A nine member task crew just tried to take me out in my own home.”

“What?”

“By the looks of it it’s Uruk.”

Colourful swears fill his ears for a good few minutes. Thorin allows it to continue a bit before interrupting.

“They know my name, what else do they know?”

“...I’ll see what I can find out, you managed to leave anyone alive?”

“Yes, one. I want to see what I can find out from him.”

“No, that won’t do at all, I’ll send over an old work colleague of mine.”

“We don’t have the time-“

“It won’t take long at all.” He assures him and Thorin is left listening to the tone once again. He takes the time to tie up the man properly, trussing him up like a pig. The duct tape is wound around him one final time when the door bell rings.

That was faster than Thorin expected.

He goes to the door and opens it a crack, panicking when he saw Bo on the other side. She was still in her pyjamas although she wore a patchwork dressing gown over it and hopped from one foot to the other shivering. She must have heard all the noise he was making and come over to check on him, he realises with a sinking heart

“Listen I know there was a lot of noise but I was just playing a video game, it’s fine really.”

She raises an eyebrow in utter disbelief before chuckling in a low voice while shaking her head.

“Gandalf said you needed an interrogation expert?”

What was it that Kili always kept on saying? Oh yes, Mind equals blown.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin would have liked to say he did not stare with his mouth hanging near his waist while Bo rolled her eyes, patted his cheek good naturedly and pushed past him into his house but that would be a lie. A big, fat lie.

“ _You’re_ the interrogations expert?”

“Well I did just say that.” Bo answered while daintily avoiding the many pools of blood that littered the house now. “Quite a mess. That’s why I prefer poison, clean up is just so much easier. Course nothing compares to Gandalf and his convenient accidents. I swear, every time I hear of some poor mountain climber who turns up dead after being trapped in an avalanche, I check with Gandalf to see if they’re one of his. He loves that trick.”

Thorin responded with a strangled noise before clearing his throat and trying to wrap his head around this.

“So you’re-?”

“I’m one of Gandalf’s charges. Not retired exactly, I just don’t take on long cons, prefer to do one offs. I get too into it, you know? Bit of a method actor, I’m afraid. And while that would be fine if I was acting, when torturing people it gets a bit...icky, you know?”

“Indeed.” Thorin said in a daze.

“You know I think you could do with some help in clean up and- oh.” She stopped suddenly squatting near one of the bodies. She pulled a pencil from her pocket and gingerly lifted the black shirt the man was wearing beyond the wrist.

“He’s from the Uruk gang.” Thorin explained as she looked at the tattoo with interest.

“One of Azog’s I believe.” Thorin reeled in surprise. Azog was a name known to very few people even in the espionage circles. They knew him as the Pale orc or the great Gundabad Captain but his actual name was a well kept secret. And here she was tossing it around with such ease. “May I use your phone?”

“Of course.”

She smiled gratefully and perched herself on the end of the table with the vintage dial up phone that looked ridiculous, to avoid getting blood on her fluffy slippers. He couldn’t blame her. Those things looked like they would absorb the whole puddle with how fleecy they were.

“Beorn, hi, listen could you get some cleaning equipment and come over to Thorin’s? I’m afraid there’s  a bit of a mess and I feel like you’d like to be here to clean it up...Yes...Of course...Yes, perhaps the van, there might be some heavy lifting involved...Thank you.” She put the phone back on the cradle. “He’ll be here soon.” She informed him and Thorin spluttered.

Just how many spies lived here?

“Around ten or so.” She answered. He hadn’t even realised he said that out loud.

“Ten?”

“Or so. I think Mrs Sandman might be one too but Gandalf gets very twinkle eyed when I ask him. She’s probably a free agent though, not really affiliated with any organisations. The rest are all retired or only active when requested to be.”

“That’s a lot of people.”

“Yes well, this is such a quiet unsuspecting place that it was used as a sort of headquarters during the second World War. So a lot of people here grew up around a lot of secrets and ended up...taking over the family business.”

“And you?”

“Thorin darling, I remember my mother with a poisonous plant. What do you think?” She smiled, sweet and saccharine and terrifying.

Luckily the bell rang and he answered it, mind still processing what was going on. Beorn stood on the other side, his van pulled up in the driveway and a host of cleaning goods in his arms.

“I hear you need help cleaning up.”

“Beorn, there you are!” Bo sidled up to the giant man who made her look like a little child and pulled him in, closing the door behind him. “I thought you’d like to join us.” She swept a hand in the direction of the bodies.

“These are Azog’s men.” The gigantic man said, his face contorted like he had smelled something bad. 

Thorin all but threw his hands up in the air. He worked undercover for six months at the Uruk gang before he learnt that name and here everyone just seemed to be dropping it like they were talking about some gardener. But there was no time to think because suddenly Beorn was almost nose to nose with him and staring straight into his eyes. Thorin was suddenly made very aware of how yellow Beorn’s eyes were. “Did you do this?”

“Yes.”

And as Beorn swept him up in his arms, Thorin understood what a bear hug really felt like.

“Let the poor man go Beorn, there’s a lot of work to do. Which reminds me Thorin, where is that one you left alive? I have some questions I need to ask him.”

“Right this way.” Thorin hurried to her side to lead her to the basement, eager to get away from Beorn. Once they were out of earshot he finally asked her. “What was that about?”

“Beorn hates Azog with a burning passion and would like to nail his head to his fence.” She said as if discussing the weather and Thorin wondered what he had gotten himself into.

“Why?”

“You’ll have to ask him that I’m afraid, not really my story to tell. But it’s a really good story, I promise.” She assured him.

“He was that happy I killed these men, how will he react when he finds out I cut off Azog’s arm?”

“Prepare to get kissed within an inch of your life.” She laughed at his dumbstruck expression. “Don’t worry, he’s a good kisser. Doesn’t slobber at least.”

“Wait you and... him?”

Because Bo was very...you know, while Beorn was more eh.

“Mrs Johnson insisted. It did not end well for her.”

“Really?” Thorin felt a bit scared for Mrs Johnson. What had they done to her?

“Well Beorn’s sheep ‘accidentally’ got into her garden.” She snickered as they made their way down the stairs to the basement. “Oh and before I start, is there some specific information you want me to find out from him?”

“Not really, I-” Thorin paused mid sentence and thought it over. “My family, I need to know if Azog knows of them.”

She held his eyes for a whole minute before nodding and looking away. Bo dragged an old table in the corner forward and took a little pouch from the inside pocket of her dressing gown. It wasn’t particularly complicated, a simple leather piece with straps to close it when rolled up and she opened it up on the table.

Needles and syringes, filled with different liquids lined it. One held a viscous transparent liquid, so heavy that when she picked it up it was a few seconds before it submitted to gravity, another with a brown one that reminded him of the tar shampoo he used. Bo walked up to the unconscious restrained man and neatly injected him with the brown liquid. Within milliseconds, he awoke, eyes darting all around the place before settling on her.

“Hello,” She said politely and Thorin could hear a smile in her voice. “I have some questions for you.”

“Go to hell.” The man spat out.

“Hmm. Gloth, I believe.” He bared his teeth at her but there was a slight fear in him now. Names were dangerous to drop and had special importance in the Uruk gang. All members were known only by their rank, so for Bo to use his name so easily was terrifying. “I’m going to kill you. There is no scenario in which you come of this alive.”

“What-?” Thorin started but was quelled when she shot him a look before continuing as if he hadn’t said a thing.

“I will kill you. But whether or not you answer my questions decides the nature of your death. Whether it’s drawn out and painful or quick and simple.”

“Go. To. Hell.”

“I thought you might say that.” She smiled and prepared the other syringe. “Oh and you might want to leave for this part.” She told Thorin but he hesitated.

While Thorin had never gotten used to the concept of torture and interrogation, Bo seemed a better option than Beorn.

“Go go, you’ll be needed to shift the bodies and clean up. Such a mess and bloodstains are just so hard to get rid of! No matter how good your laundry service is.” She turned to the bound man. “Did you know, there are certain substances which can increase your sensitivity to stimuli? I could just pinch you and it would feel like your arm was being crushed, isn’t that amazing? And because you would actually be suffering from any damage, you wouldn’t actually die, just exist in a sort of pain filled limbo for ages! ” The man paled and his breath quickened and Thorin who had never been good at these sort of things decided it was time for him to leave.

Finally he left her to her own devices and went up to where Beorn had already finished ‘packaging’ three of the bodies in what appeared to be cling film. He had one body slung over his shoulder and was reaching for another and Thorin finally ended up being useful and helped him carry the bodies out.

“How long were you in Azog’s gang?” Beorn asked conversationally.

“A few months. I was supposed to be getting their trust and pass on information about the humans they were trafficking from the Misty Mountains.”

“Tough job. None of us are any good at undercover missions.”

“No?”

“Nah, Gandalf never lets his people do those jobs. Plus our reputations make us a bit noticeable.” He could think of many things about Beorn that would make him noticeable.

“Reputations?”

“Atropos, Skin-changer, The Silver Thief, Bullroarer and what not.”

It took Thorin a while to realise that little gasp had come from him. Those were some very big names that Beorn was rattling off.

“And you’re Oak, of course.”

“You know about me?” Thorin said, vaguely pleased.

“Gandalf likes to talk about the Iron Hills job. So, what happened with Azog anyway?”

“Oh he called me to his office one fine day after I’d finished a ‘job’ and congratulated me on it. Then told me how he’d been the one to kill my father and grandfather in Azanulbizar. He’d known all along that I was a spy, you see, he was just drawing it out longer, forcing me to do things... things I wish I could take back. We fought, I cut off his arm and while they all rushed to his side, I got out of there.” Screams from the basement punctuated the story giving it a sense of melodrama that hadn’t been there before. They started and stopped in fits and by the time the final body had been thrown into the van Bo emerged from the basement.

“Beorn there’s another one in the basement for you, would you mind terribly taking care of him? Thorin and I need to discuss my findings.”

“As you wish little Bunny.” The giant man folded at his waist into a neat bow before walking away and Bo sullenly glared at his back.

“What did you find out?”

“Well for once patriarchy has saved a woman’s arse, apparently while Azog has been looking he cannot find any trace of a Durin other than you. I imagine your sister changed her name after marriage and-“

“Dis didn’t. She didn’t change her last name.” He clarified.

“Wait, do you mean Dis as in the great hacker Dis?”

“Hacker? No, Dis isn’t a hacker, she works for an IT company.”

“Around five feet six inches, burgundy hair that she always keeps in a fishtail braid, bright green glasses and  her favourite pair of shoes are these really worn out flats with Matryoshka dolls on them?”

That was Dis. That was his baby sister Dis. “I got her those shoes from a mission, h-how do you know her?”

“Ummm Thorin, she’s a hacker. And she works for Gandalf. Hell, she’s been on comms with me for a few missions.”

“...What?” He said weakly.

His sister, a hacker? For Gandalf? Honestly, as if he hadn’t had enough revelations already.

First his quiet calm village turned out to be the retirement home for ex-spies, his gorgeous neighbour turned out to be an expert interrogator, the giant man he was suspicious of-Well alright, the Beorn thing wasn’t really that surprising-now he found out his sister was working for a secret organisation just as him.

How could she have been so stupid as to get mixed up with all this?

“Well on the bright side, at least we know she’s safe.”

“Indeed.”

“Although, you should know, Azog has set a pretty big bounty on you and put an open contract out on your head. So you can expect more rude visitors.”

“Of course.” He said and escorted her out of the house. Beorn came out soon after them and threw the last body into the van before shutting it. “I don’t suppose you have any actual good news for me?” Thorin asked Bo.

“I do.” Beorn answered on Bo’s behalf and they both turned to him. “These bodies are going to make great fertilisers, you might actually grow something now!” He beamed.

And Thorin who had seen a great deal of horrors in his life, promptly threw up into the petunia planters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, my friend is getting married and things have gotten very hectic since she's decided I have to teach her about makeup. Thanks for all the comments!

Bo was surprised to say the least. Not that Thorin was a spy because she’d known that since Gandalf had informed her of his friend taking up residence next to her; nor to find that he could take out a squad of orcs all on his own either, he seemed quite capable of that. Finding out that his sister was secretly a hacker for an espionage organisation might have been a shock but that he should find Beorn’s offhand comment on fertilisers so sickening that he actually threw up? Strange.

Because he had been undercover in the Uruk gang for ages. She had no doubt he had had to do vile things in his course in the gang to maintain his cover, surely this wasn’t too disturbing?

“Is the thought of decomposing bodies really such a shock to you?” She asked, concerned while handing over one of the many mints that she always found in her pockets.

“It’s the thought of gardening actually.”

And with that Bo relaxed. That made much more sense, the man had the opposite of a green thumb, he might even manage to kill Hamfast’s potatoes if he tried.

“I’m not actually trying to kill the plants!” He sounded affronted. It was adorable to watch him puff up like a little bird. Well not a little bird, more a lion shaking out his mane but still rather adorable.

“Oh I believe you. I’m absolutely sure that no one could possibly be _trying_ to be as bad at keeping plants alive as you are.”

“Whatever you say Goldilocks.” Thorin muttered as he shifted the crates and Bo gasped while Beorn laughed. Loudly

“Did you just call me Goldilocks?!” She spluttered and Thorin, whom she had only seen with soft smiles and smirks, grinned big and wide and for a moment, all white pearly perfect teeth and shiny cheeks. Bo forgot her name.

So fucking pretty.

But _Goldilocks_?!

Beorn laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Ten minutes later and he still hadn’t stopped laughing and Bo got worried.

“You should calm down, surely this can’t be healthy?”

He listened to her and did but even then a few chuckles left him every now and then.

“Goldilocks, ha, sounds so harmless and innocent.” Beorn noted. Bo had a different perspective.

“She broke into a stranger’s house, ate their food, vandalised their furniture and essentially lived as a squatter. All this while she was a child, she must have grown up to be quite a criminal.” And the laughter and grins were transferred from the boys to her. “Now that I think about it, it’s quite a moniker. Thank you Thorin.”

* * *

It was dawn when they finally finished dealing with all the bodies and finished cleaning up the house. Beorn and Bo were so good at it that Thorin was almost certain that the cottage hadn’t been this clean when he’d moved in and the real estate agent had had it aired out.

“Are you taking him to headquarters?”

“Yeah, figure there’s some family reunions that need to happen maybe a bit of information sharing.”

“Taking the road less travelled?”

“Of course.” Beorn nodded and rearranged the bodies.

“What’s that code for?” Thorin asked Bo, curious as to the ways of this new Intelligence agency. He knew most of the others of course Mossad, former KGB, MI6, Quendi but this one was unknown to him.

Bo tilted her head like a bird. He half expected her to start chirping, she was just as cheery and was a morning person as well, and with the golden hair she was like a canary. Quite birdlike. Although maybe more of a predator than a canary, he corrected thinking of the screams she had elicited during the interrogation. “Code?”

“The Road Less Travelled.” Thorin was just so excited to be out and spying again. He had missed it so much, although he couldn’t quite figure out why Bo was looking at him like that. Like he was an idiot.

Thorin was many things, an idiot was not one of them.

“It’s the road...less travelled. It is shorter but goes through forestland and there’s a bit of a creek in the way. Unless you know the back roads really well you don’t go by those paths.”

Alright, maybe he was a bit of an idiot. But in his defence he had just killed a squad of people and he was feeling pumped. Sweet, merciful adrenaline was once again coursing through his veins. He felt so alive!

The bodies in the back of Beorn’s van, the soiled rags left in the bathrooms to soak, Beorn finally pulled out with Bo waving at him as he left enthusiastically.

“Take care!” She yelled and Thorin was surprised. She wasn’t exactly the loud type but here she was shouting so early in the morning.

“What was that about?” He asked as curtains from houses farther away shifted open only to drop again, clearly disturbed by Bo’s shouting.

She smiled “ _That_ was a code. I was giving a warning.”

“Warning?”

“We’ll discuss this later right now we need to get to headquarters.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I checked with Gandalf, Dis is already there. She might know something.”

Ah yes, his baby sister who was apparently also leading a double life, not unlike his. He was trying hard not to think about it.

Thorin sighed. The last ten hours had been the most tumultuous ten hours in his life and that was saying something considering how thick the file the CIA had on him was.

_And it felt so good!_

How Bo and Beorn managed to live such a calm life was beyond him, he was itching to get back out there and fight and just plain kill bad people. It just wasn’t the same killing plants.

 “Come on, we’ll take my car.” She said. Admittedly his sedan wasn’t exactly the type of car you would take when going through the ‘Road less travelled’ so he acquiesced to her small SUV. “DO you have anything you want to take with you?” He looked up to find her staring him right in his eye. Had her eyes always been so blue?

“Will it take long?”

“Not particularly but I don’t know when we’ll be coming back. Luckily I always have a duffle packed.”

“Ah, give me ten minutes.”

“Certainly, we’ll meet here in ten.”

It didn’t take him long to pack and he took the extra time to take a shower pausing to look at himself in the mirror. Finally, his tattoos had reason again. Quickly he changed into the white Henley shirt and jeans and actual dress shoes instead of the galoshes he wore here to fit in. In the back of his closet his favourite leather jacket with the shearling collar hung, waiting to be worn. He slung his bag over his head and strode out, aviators in hand only to stop when he saw Bo.

She wore a pretty and plain heavy brown skirt with little blue flowers edging the hem, a crisp white shirt and a green vest. Over it all she had a maroon pea coat with bright buttons that gleamed. Her Goldilocks hair was neatly pinned away from her face and tied at her neck and she wore rain boots that Dis would fawn over, brown with a yellow tie in the back.

He felt like a ridiculous city boy ponce next to her. The aviators were quickly stowed away and their existence was willed out of his mind.

“Shall we?” She smiled brightly and they both took their places in the car. Thorin was amused by how far ahead her seat was in comparison to his and couldn’t help the little smile as she checked everything before turning to him. “Now if you feel a bit uncomfortable with the way I drive please feel free to tell me. I know that some people like to drive slow and some people like it a bit fast. If you feel a bit queasy please don’t hesitate to tell me before you...you know, end up vomiting again.”

“That won’t happen.” His pride stung at the reminder.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes of course.”

“Okay then. Seatbelt on.” She commanded and Thorin snapped it into place but couldn’t let it go without a quip.

“Will I be needing it?”

“According to some people you might.”

“Really?”

In answer she turned out the driveway and onto the road, somehow drifting the car out into the street, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air accompanied by the screech of tires and Thorin’s hand rose of its own accord and every muscle in his body clenched as he clutched the handle with all his might.

“Personally I don’t see it.” She said and with a mighty roar they set off.


End file.
